


The Ball Drops & So Do I

by kestra_troi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Bottom Sam, Bottom Sam Winchester, Bottoming from the Top, Clothed Sex, Dean is a Softie, Drabble, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Masturbation, New Years, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Coital Cuddling, Power Bottom Sam Winchester, Restraints, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Top Dean, Top Dean Winchester, Top Dean Winchester/Bottom Sam Winchester, off screen sex, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 23:52:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13259229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kestra_troi/pseuds/kestra_troi
Summary: Sam gives Dean a present for New Years: his ass.





	1. A Christmas Gift for New Years

Sam shoved his jeans down to the edge of his boots and raked his shirt and jacket up under his armpits, so that nothing would get in his way. His boots felt heavy and unwieldy stepping around his brother on the lumpy motel mattress. On top of that his jeans and underwear pooled around his calves leaving him feeling hamstrung and awkward, but regardless he maintained his balance.

Luckily, he already stood in the position he needed.

Squatting deeply, he wobbled, his muscles unused to this particular move. He stretched his feet wider, spreading his knees and settled into a crouch like an umpire behind home plate. His ass brushed against the tip of his brother’s leaking and well-slicked erection.

“Sammy…” Dean shuddered as much as his bonds allowed.

Keeping one elbow in tight so his clothes wouldn’t fall and block his way, Sam used his other hand to guid his brother’s dick to his lubed rim. After a couple misses, Sam managed to get the tip directly below his hole, close enough to touch. He breathed deep and dropped himself onto his brother’s erection.

He meant to slide slowly, but his thighs already quaked under the strain of holding him upright and gravity couldn’t be denied. He hissed as every sudden inch forced him open. Not graceful, but effective nonetheless.

“Sammy!” Dean threw his head back, but the rest of his body remained inert. If it weren’t for his bonds he’d be thrashing, spasming, bucking anything to get the ball rolling faster.

Sam took his time, letting his body adjust and his breathing normalize. He put his hands on his knees and his shirt and jacket tumbled from his sweaty pits. The button on Dean’s jeans poked his ass as did his belt buckle. He should’ve stripped Dean or at least pulled his pants down. Next time he would make a point of it. Right now, it was too late. He wasn’t getting up until he finished.

Moving carefully, nearly straining his and his jean’s flexibility, Sam brought his legs underneath him for support. As he leaned forward some of Dean slipped out of him, but once his legs were better positioned he immediately sat back down taking his brother all the way.

“Jesus, Sammy,” Dean swore under his breath watching everything unfold. He blinked his eyes furiously, disbelieving as he saw his dick glide inside his brother again smooth as silk.

“Liking the view?” Sam asked over his shoulder. Dean spouted some agreeing gibberish noises and Sam smirked. “Yeah, well, don’t get used it.”  

Slowly, Sam raised up on his haunches and experimentally rolled his hips. Dean groaned huskily. Sam smiled at the ceiling, full of smug self-satisfaction. He bounced lightly in place and gasped along with his brother.

The feel of Dean’s throbbing, warm cock certainly differed from the toy he had used for practice. And thanks to his thorough preparations his ass didn’t hurt nearly as much as he had expected. His dick thickened slightly less than half-mast. Perhaps he would bottom more going forward. Not that he would ever say so out loud.

Stroking his dick to fullness, Sam began a series of wary bounces and rolls acclimating to the new set of motions or at least the new sensations they brought with them. Eventually, he relaxed into an easy rhythm gradually building speed as he became more comfortable and determined.

“Enjoying your belated Christmas present?” He asked, his bangs sticking to his forehead instead of fluttering in the breeze as he turned his head. “Was it worth the wait?”

“Yesss,” Dean groaned. “Jesus, Sammy! God…dammit, Sammy!”

“Happy New Years, Dean,” Sam smugly toasted.

“Happy--freaking--New Years,” Dean echoed, panting for breath.

Sam rode him like a champion bull-rider, except staying saddled longer, much longer. Dean was a red-faced, muttering idiot by the time the ball dropped on TV and Sam let him come. By then, Sam wasn’t much better despite having jerked off once already.

When Dean’s dick stopped pulsing inside him and his own dick stopped erupting Sam crawled weakly off Dean’s lap. By the foot of the bed, the plug he discarded long before tumbled into his hand. Sam plucked it off the mattress and gingerly pressed it into his sore, well-used hole. For later. Maybe.

Dean gulped behind him, audibly. Sam chuckled feebly and cautiously set his feet on the solid floor. His knees felt like jelly, his thighs trembled, and his back popped, but otherwise Sam felt wonderful. He hastily did up his jeans and shut off the cheap motel television. He smoothed his sweaty locks and quipped, “You ready to get those beers you wanted?”  

“Shut up, Sammy,” Dean grumbled halfheartedly. “Just shut up.”  

Grinning impishly, Sam lovingly pushed Dean’s sweat, lube, and come-slick junk back into his pants and zipped him up. Then he helped Dean out of his restraints.

They drove to the only open bar in town and saluted the new year with alcohol before Sam pulled Dean outside for round two out in the parking lot.


	2. A Little New Years Cuddling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-sex cuddles and some mild homophobia. But no worries: Dean to the rescue!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No sex in this chapter.

Catching his breath, Dean sank onto the cold, metal hood of the random car he had been standing beside and dragged Sam along with him. The air was freezing and out in the gravel parking lot of this small-town bar there wasn’t any cover. Dean wrapped his arms around his brother’s waist and pulled him down until Sam was seated in his lap and his back was in the perfect position to act as a headrest; the cool, smooth fabric of Sam’s jacket felt perfect on Dean’s flushed cheeks.

They stayed huddled together, waiting quietly, while Dean’s cock slowly softened. As Dean burrowed his nose into his shoulder blade, Sam stared up at the unbelievably clear night sky decidedly ignoring the erection securely trapped against his thigh in his form fitting jeans. He’d take care of it, or they’d take care of it as soon as Dean was done with his post-orgasm cuddles.

Eventually, Dean softened completely and slipped out from Sam’s warm hole. Almost immediately, Sam squirmed, saying, “Here, put the plug back in.”

“Don’t wanna move,” Dean mumbled. After two unexpectedly awesome orgasms, and more than a little half-decent beer, Dean was understandably tired.

“Too bad,” Sam insisted shoving the stainless steel plug into his brother’s uncooperative hand. He rose up off his older brother’s lap and despite grumbling incoherently Dean easily slid the plug into place. That done, Sam gingerly settled on Dean’s lap again. The position wasn’t entirely comfortable for either of them what with the airy gap between Dean’s junk and Sam’s ass, but neither of them said anything about it.

Dean, immediately, resumed his cuddling.

A minute later, propping his chin on Sam’s shoulder blade, Dean complained, “Fully-clothed cuddling just ain’t the same.”

“Brilliant insight,” Sam quipped.

“Zip it, smartass.” Dean very maturely retorted by digging his chin harder into his brother’s shoulder.

“Knock it off, jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean murmured softly.

“Hey! Get your ass off my car!”

Gone in a flash, Sam bolted for the Impala, holding his pants up with both hands. Above and behind him a single light hung on a telephone pole. It was weathered, dirty and terribly bright, but it was bright enough to glint off the base of the stainless steel plug in Sam’s ass as he ran to his side of the car. Dean wasn’t the only one to notice. “What’re you two faggots doing over there?!”

Jumping to his feet, Dean smooshed his junk back inside his jeans, zipped up, and spun around on his heels. He pointed his finger aggressively in the other man’s direction, his go-to, don’t-mess-with-me-expression slipping over his features.

“Hey!” He barked, interrupting the random guy’s ongoing homophobic rant. The guy stopped in his tracks, obviously not anticipating any sort of response. Dean wagged his finger accusingly. “You’re an asshole!”

The Impala’s engine roared to life.

 “We’re with Fags for Jesus and you and your shitty Corolla have just been blessed.” Dean facetiously continued, “Go with God, dickhead. And have a Happy New Year.”

Bewildered the guy didn’t have anything to say to that and with all the angry dignity he could muster Dean stalked off to the Impala, his head held high. He yanked open the car door, slid into his seat, and swerved out of that parking lot staring daggers at the confused and irritated stranger. 

Sam whooped and hollered, a little drunk on beer and sex. “What’d you say to that guy?”

“Nothing,” Dean chivalrously lied. “Just wished him and his shit car a Happy New Year.”


End file.
